Simple Stuff.

 I thought about deleting this blog.  

I also thought about starting a new blog.

But ultimately, I just thought f*%k it and decided to keep on with what I've been doing.  

Here's my warning though:  

1.  This is MY blog and these are MY words.  I don't care what your opinion is regarding ANY of it.  Keep it to yourself.  Or start your own blog.

2.  If you insist upon sharing your unsolicited opinion here, I will probably just publicly mock you and laugh at your ignorance.  

3.  Got something to say?  Call me.  Text me.  Write me a letter.  But don't embarrass yourself in my space. 

Now, on to the simple stuff.......

I have no pictures from this weekend to share.  There are no exciting stories to tell.  But let me tell you, this has been one of my favorite weekends ever.

 Ever.  Really.   

Thursday, drinks and dinner with my greatest friends after finishing a seemingly long week at work.   Friday was filled with cleaning, cooking, a nice long run, and a little self-care, followed by a quiet evening watching "Oregon Field Guide" reruns while Sarah and her friend watched movies, Jake played video games, and Jon recovered from football practice.  Saturday, a slow morning, fruit tree pruning (all hands on deck to clean up that mess!), and another quiet night doing nothing of importance.  Sunday, a little antiquing (with some great finds), a late lunch, kiddos in the house, and yard work until after dark.   

Simple.  Maybe even slightly dull.  But my heart is full, my body is tired, and my sleep will be welcome and peaceful tonight.  

I don't need much these days.

  

Writer's Block

Funny title.  Especially since my mind never, ever stops thinking and, therefore, I should have an endless list of things to write about. 

I guess I probably do have things I want to write about.  Real things.  True things.  Ouchie, painful things.  Funny things.  Sarcastic things.  

And I love to write.  A lot.  I can sit down and start typing (thank you, Mr. Halse, for teaching me this skill) and suddenly realize that 2 or 3 hours have gone by.  Writing is truly cathartic for me.  It also helps make sense of the jumbled up chaos that exists in my brain.  Once I put something down on paper, at least theoretically speaking, there is a certain clarity that follows.  As a ridiculous overthinker, this is a good thing for me.

I suppose a downside of writing is that the writer cannot always ensure that the reader understands the words that are written.  Interpretation is a tricky thing.  So is a misinterpretation.   

Often times in the editing process, I reread a sentence or a paragraph over and over, trying to be sure that what I'm saying is clear.  I want my feelings or opinion or perspective to be almost palpable to the person reading.  I want a reader to "hear" my voice in my writing.

Now here's where I'm struggling.....

Just how honest or transparent should I be when I write? 

 I censor myself.  I downplay the real feelings I feel. I include only portions of the true story (probably to protect people who don't deserve protection).  I make light of serious things.  I water it all down. Dilute it to a more palatable level.  

Hmmm.  That's not very honest.  Or real.  

Maybe it's time to get over this self-imposed writer's block and tell a few new stories.  Uncensored stories are usually pretty great to read.  I think it was Hemingway who said, "There is nothing to writing.  All you do is sit down at a typewriter and bleed."

Go back and look at the comments in my previous post.  

And then grab some gauze and the bandaids when you come back.